


Uncomfortably Dumb

by JaeNunyah



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeNunyah/pseuds/JaeNunyah
Summary: These are the Pink Floyd Rejection Files. Each chapter a proposal meets refusal, tapping the reservoir of 'No'  from varied viewpoints.





	1. Big Meanie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nippy pup pushes Big Dog too far.

"Raaaah-jerrrr..." Syd had been pestering since he'd opened the newspaper (which, among civilized folk, ought to have been a clear sign he didn't want to talk), and now has crept across the carpet to nestle against Roger's feet, leaning in to prop chin upon his knee "...stop ignoring me. I'm lonesome."

Roger continues to read, but drops one hand to card long fingers through Syd's curls. Token, idle affection, like to a needy but mostly nice dog, to which Syd responds quite like one, snuggling closer and wriggling happily.

"Mmmm. I love it when you pet me. Scratch my ears now."

"Only if you keep quiet..." Roger generously allows, rubbing roughened fingertips briskly back and forth along the cartilage for sensation of scratch, since he has no nails to speak of, keeping them pared brutally short to facilitate smoother transition upon stiff steel strings. "...like a good dog."

Roger is well aware Syd isn't all there, and forsees looming failure future from frontman who can't keep it together, but discerns no real harm in indulging occasional overatures...as long as he can remember not to push previously established boundaries. Both men contentedly repose in respective ways for several moments, but Syd just can't leave well enough alone.

Nuzzling head eagerly beneath Roger's touch, Syd slides a hand up one lean thigh, beseeching "Tell me you love me."

Roger immediately takes his hand away. "No pettings for bad dogs who can't obey."

Syd pouts "But you DO love me, don't you? I know you do...tellmetellmeTELL me."

THIS again... Roger folds the newspaper and lies it upon the arm of his chair. "I love you, Syd...when you're not being a pain. Please stop pawing me." Roger sighs, reminding his unduly forward bandmate "We talked about this. I'm not interested."

Syd smiles saucily up at him "I'd rather be a pleasure than a pain. Let me show you..." Syd's hands continue to slip upward.

"No." is all Roger says, vexed Syd won't heed. He begins to roll up the newspaper as touch becomes uncomfortably intimate, threatening with another single word.

"Stop."

Syd again ignores his expressed wishes. "Look what you have for me...HARD proof what you really want."

That's an all-too-common misperception. Whether or not it applies to other males Roger can't be sure, but imagines he's not the first to conceive that erection ought not to imply intent or consent. He cracks Syd across the knuckles with the rolled-up paper.

"BAD dog. I said 'no'. That's not where I keep my brain. I DON'T want it, and if I have to tell you again it'll be your pretty face."

Syd sulks. "Don't be so mean. I KNOW you like it." He continues to squeeze and stroke, which only spurs Roger to further fury, rather than the enticement sought.

"Syd, I swear, if you don't get your hands off me RIGHT NOW both of us will be sorry." Roger doesn't want to hit him, but is starting to believe that's the only way to end this decisively. Only maniacs can't take "no" for an answer. He bites back sudden (accurate, he's sure) impulse to tell Syd he'd have much better luck trying this on Rick...for all Roger knows, he already HAS...but that's THEIR problem, and the last fucking thing he wants to think about now.

Foolhardily undaunted, Syd's fingers close upon Roger's zipper. "I know what you want better than you'll admit. Just let me..." He insists impishly. "You'll love it...'cos you love ME."

That's the last straw. Roger lashes out with the rolled newspaper, swatting Syd forcibly across the cheek. "That's IT. No more pettings or cuddles. You don't know the difference between simple affection and sexual attraction, and maybe it IS mean to say so, but I am NOT playing this shiT anymore, because all it does is encourage you toward something that is NEVER gonna happen. Understand?"

Sid withdraws to stand shakily, regarding Roger with wide, shocked eyes swimming with tears to snarl "I understand nobody's EVER gonna love YOU, you stingy, selfish meanie." before turning to run away.

Syd's words and expression both hurt, but Roger's no stranger to the fact that truth often does.


	2. Unbirthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick needs some space.

The wascally wabbit's not enough of a distraction to sway snuggly Syd. Nick had clicked on cartoons and scooted away from bratty bandmate's reach, but Syd only moved closer again, eyes still on Merrie Melodies but hands reaching up to stroke Nick's hair.

"Why won't you give me cuddles, Nicky?" Syd plaintively pleads, fingers rippling through glossy dark strands, leaning in with kissing clearly on madcap mind. "I KNOW you love me, but you barely EVER tell me and you neverNEVER show me."

Nick is already crowded against one arm of the sofa...nowhere left to evade...so he stands up, Syd's hands sliding down from his head along his body, fingers catching in his belt-loops to try pulling him back. One irritation at a time...but which to address first?

"Don't call me 'Nicky', Syd." Nick gently disentangles himself from Syd's grasp. It's somehow easier to protest the diminutive familiar form of his name than the distressingly familiar affections.

"Fine..." Syd pouts "Then don't YOU call ME 'Syd' anymore. Why don't you call me...'Roger'? We can start calling HIM 'George'... see how he likes it." Syd stands as well, and Nick backs up several steps before turning his back to walk across the room, futilely hoping not to be followed.

That will NOT be happening, although Nick does know their respective given names. "One 'Roger' is quite enough, don'cha think?" He tries to laugh, but it comes out awkwardly forced "Get kinda confusing, yeah?"

"Is it confusing to admit you love me?" Distance fails to dissuade, Syd closing the gap between them, making Nick extend one stiff arm to halt his ardent advance. Syd's chest presses against Nick's splayed fingers, into which he leans heavily. "You've said it before..."

Nick supposes he has, but always in sort of an offhand, placating manner. He tries for sincerity now. "I love you, but not THIS way, okay?"

Syd pulls a few inches away from Nick's restraining hand, and at first Nick thinks he might've got the message but, no such luck. Syd grips the hem of his shirt to raise it up and strip it off over his curly head, tossing the cloth across the room and leaning barechested back against the palm Nick is forced to raise once more. "How do you KNOW, Nicky? You never give me a CHANCE." 

Nick struggles to tap his reservoir of "no". He knows he has zero inclination toward what Syd clearly wants, but he's unwilling to be a coldhearted bastard about it...

As if reading his mind, Syd sighs "Oh, don't be mean to me. I could be EVER so nice to you, if you'd just let me..." He takes the hand upon his chest into both of his, bringing Nick's fingers to his mouth. Tongue flickers out to slickly swipe each digit in turn before taking the middle one between moistened lips, applying smooth suction in a gliding back-and-forth sweep, eyes eagerly upon Nick's to gauge reaction.

Nick jerks his hand away, wiping wetness reflexively on the leg of his jeans as he once more seeks refuge in humor. "C'mon now, mate, you don't know where that's been."

"I know where I WANT it to be..." Syd reaches to retake his hand, but Nick retreats. Undaunted, Syd advances.

This is getting ridiculous. He's likely to be chased all over the whole house at this rate. Suddenly Nick remembers...

"Oh, hey, I've got a present for you!" Silly thing was meant to be for Syd's upcoming birthday, but if it can distract him NOW...

Syd immediately alights "Oooh, whatisit what IS IT?"

Nick musters stern air, points at the couch and says "Sit down and wait a sec. DON'T follow me. I'll be right back."

Miraculously, Syd obeys, bouncing happily with anticipation, as Nick heads down to hall toward his bedroom. He pulls the fat tome from his bookshelf, sure Syd will love it, hoping it keeps him engaged enough for Nick to make the strategic retreat he's decided is the only way he can deal with this today. Walking back to thrust the brightly-bound book into Syd's waiting hands, he realizes he DOES hope the gift is well-received...he'd thought immediately of Syd upon first sight of it in that goofy London sexshop.

"A very merry unbirthday to you."

"A BOOK?" Syd grouses "That's more of a Roger present..." but then he reads the cover, and takes note that the volume's unseemly fatness isn't due to close-written pages but to strategic folds " 'FUN WITH DICK AND JANE: A PORNOGRAPHIC POP-UP'...No WAY! Where'd you GET this?" he exclaims with obviously thrilled surprise, cracking it open on his lap where a pasteboard phallus proceeds to jut up jauntily. "Ooh, SO naughty, Nicky! You DO love me!" He jiggles a tab, causing the paper prick to waggle.

Nick can't help but smile. "Yeah. Glad you like it."

Syd sparkles up at him "It's YOUR unbirthday, too, Nicky. What can I give YOU?"

"You can stop calling me 'Nicky'." He's not giving Syd any chance to chase him, and is getting the fuck out of this booby hatch. "I gotta leave now, but have fun." Nick beats feet out the front door, intending to take John up on his long-standing offer to spend some time in a sane household.

Stepping off the porch, Nick watches Roger getting out of his Jaguar, striding up the drive to meet him coming down it.

"You might wanna turn back around, Rog." Nick offers friendly warning "He's in full-on obscene octopus mode."

Roger's approach in no way slows, fast closing closer upon Nick than he knows how to process as He brings His face within kissing distance to deliver in perfect, earnest deadpan "Tell me you love me, Nick."

Fierce eyes blazing into his, Nick nonetheless gets the joke, bursting into nervously relieved laughter as Roger steps back. "Yep, that's the one all right. He's half naked and wholly bonkers."

"Which half?" Roger asks, seemingly nonplussed, another question rapped out before Nick can decide whether to answer the first. "Where's Rick?"

This one's easier "What're we, girlfriends? I don't fuckin' know. Not HERE."

"Pity. I WOULD turn back around if he were." Roger remarks before another nosy inquiry "Where are you going?"

"What're WE, married?" Nick retorts, good-naturedly "None of your beeswax." He relents, sharing "I'm off to visit John."

Roger considers several similarities between Entwistle and Mason. Both the calm, steady ones amidst genius, madness and sweetness...if anybody could commiserate with Nick about psycho, horny little bandmates who can't stop fiddlin' about, it's John. "Good." he proclaims "Tell him to give my regards to Pete."

"I will." Nick promises, pausing beside his own car to ask "You really goin' in there?"

"Not to worry." Roger assures breezily "He doesn't get up to silly buggers with ME anymore."

This is not the first time Nick's envied Roger's cool confidence, but has to know... "How'd you manage that, then?"

"I said 'Bad Dog' and whacked him with a newspaper."

Roger and His cutting turns of phrase... "What REALLY happened?" Nick asks as Roger opens the door to head inside.

"That is literally what I did." Roger answers so sincerely that Nick knows it's true.


	3. Being Beastly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd won't let Dave sleep.

"Leemee 'lone, 'm sleepin'..." Dave mutters, shoving Syd back onto his own side of the mattress.

This not the first occasion upon which rather paltry sort of earnings have secured less-than-ideal accommodations, forcing the two of them to share a bed (and Syd DOES have an annoying habit of trying to cuddle), but this particular bed is larger than some have been, so Dave deems there to be no excuse for the overly affectionate contact tonight.

"You're NOT." Syd points out, clearly not sleepy at all "You're talking...and pushing. Don't PUSH me, David. That's mean."

"I'm TRYING to sleep..." Dave growls grumpily "...and I'll get a whole lot meaner if you don't shut up and let me."

Syd creeps back over, pressing warmly against Dave's drowsy form. "I could help you sleep..." he offers, one hand sliding across Dave's chest before slowly starting to inch downward.

NOW Dave's awake. "Knock it off!" he snaps, slapping Syd's offending paw from his belly.

Syd draws back his hand with a surprised, sulky hiss "HITTING, too? Why don't you ever want me to be nice to you?"

"Because I don't like it." Dave answers simply, patience stretched thin.

Syd moves even closer to whisper in his ear "How do you KNOW if you won't let me TRY?"

Dave shoves him away again, darkness hiding his glare but vexation coming through in his voice. "I know I want you to stop touching me, and if you DON'T you'll be sleeping on the floor."

Message couldn't be clearer, but Syd's still not getting it.

"You wouldn't kick me out of bed. You love me."

THIS again..."Not when you're getting on my nerves and keeping me up."

"Ooh, am I getting you up?" Syd's questing fingers alight upon Dave's hip, provoking him to make good on his threat.

Shoving sharply with heavy hand and forceful foot, Dave drives Syd over the edge of the mattress and onto the floor with a thump. Several seconds of stunned silence are finally followed by a pained, plaintive whimper.

"owwww..." Syd gives a sniffle, teetering on edge of sob "You're being beastly...I'm bruised."

Dave's often observed Syd's way of making folk feel bad for denying him anything and how, with regards to sympathy, he truly embodies "give him an inch, he'll take a mile", feigning fragility to gain gentler treatment. Dave's too exhausted and irritated for indulging a pity-party.

"Oh, you're not hurt, you great grizzling git. Even if you ARE, it's your own fault. I warned you. Listen next time."

"If I PROMISE to be good, will you let me come back and not kick me anymore?" Syd begs in a small, meek voice.

Damn it...Dave HADN'T kicked, it had only been a rough nudge...How does Syd always manage to DO that? Makes a fellow feel guilty even though he certainly was in the right. Dave supposes he can compromise without BEING compromised.

"You DO have to promise..." He isn't sure if Syd will keep his word, but if he goes back on it that'll serve to strengthen the righteousness of Dave's hardline stance. "...say: 'I solemnly swear to stay on my side of the bed and keep my hands to myself.' and you can lie back down." Dave's not about to allow any ambiguity...he hopes.

Syd repeats the oath word-for-word, adding "Now YOU have to promise you love me."

"Okay, but if you break your promise I'm taking back mine, and I'll NEVER say it again...EVER."

[That ought to forestall feisty fiend...funny, for such a little love-junkie, how Syd seems desperate for declarations of others (he even somehow gets people who barely KNOW him to say they love him) but rarely makes them himself.]

Syd seems genuinely subdued as he climbs cautiously back onto the bed, stretching out on his back beside Dave. "I promised..." he says softly "...now you."

"I love you, Syd. I promise. Now go to sleep." Dave closes his eyes, praying for peace and quiet. As he's finally drifting toward doze, bedsprings begin bouncing under telltale rocking rhythm of Syd's arm alongside his own. "I'm still awake." he warns wearily.

"That's okay." Syd murmurs mildly "I don't mind..."

"Well, I DO." declares Dave "Cut it out."

"Dayyyy-viiiid..." Syd groans his name pleadingly "...that's TOO mean. I'm keeping my hands to myself, just like I promised." Motion and breathing both pick up speed as he gasps "...NEED to...or I can't sleep...UP all night...don't be so cruel...if you love me."

[...world's worst wanking weasel...]

"Fine..." Dave heaves a heavy, put-upon sigh, supposing he's likely slept through worse "...but if you get anything on me you're going back to the floor and STAYING there."


	4. Concept Album?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's idea is roundly rejected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felonious Kane wrote "The Great Gig Comes At Midnight" and also "Blotter Bingo", both available on Rockfic, and those stories have influenced this chapter.

Roger sees them as the Three Little Monkeys, imagining Nick's hands covering his eyes, Rick's his mouth and Dave's his ears. [That's about the fucking size of it, all right. It really is a shame things...we...have to be this way. Their poor little minds are closed, too...maybe...It's worth a try, though. The worst they can do is laugh.]

"I have a proposition." Roger begins, pacing the few strides back and forth along one side of the table while expectantly eyeing expressions of the men seated across from him. Right in customary, predictable character, Nick appears calmly curious, Rick anxiously apprehensive and Dave sulkily defiant. "I'm sure you'll agree that my previous...unconventional...endeavors haven't exactly proven profitable." He awaits feedback, and receives no surprises when it comes.

"HOUSEHOLD OBJECTS was really fun." opines Nick, admitting "Sure, nobody'd buy such a thing, and it IS kind of a pisser we spent so much time and money, but then never finished."

"Fucking mad is what it is." Dave growls "Do that nutter art-house shit on your OWN time, Roger. THIS idea better be a PROPER album with actual SONGS, or you're just wasting our time...again."

Roger knows Dave's trying to wind him up...well, two can play. "I've realized I haven't been catering to a...common enough denominator. The sheep WILL buy the Thing..." he drops pauses for effect "...they DO want to know, after all...If it's about...sex." [It's like I'm working with schoolboys...NONE of them can meet my eyes after that word.] "All the fecund followers WONDER how different we might be, so let's give them a show to remember. Wouldn't it be splendid..." he smoothly suggests "...if we individually recorded ourselves with the same woman, then arranged the vastly different sounds we each were able to elicit separately from the same set of pipes within music we later compose to suit?" 

[They're not going to like this...knew they weren't...but they might be intrigued enough to consider...] Roger hadn't expected Rick to speak first, nor the vehemence with which he rebukes.

"That's disgusting, Roger! What is WRONG with you?"

[Oh, sensibility issues, are they? Well, we can address THOSE...]

Dave immediately follows suit, standing up with balled fists. "I'm not gonna let you tell me how to fuck!"

[Of course it's a CONTROL issue with this one...]

"Do we get a say on who the woman IS?" Nick inquires with mellow smirk.

[Good old Nick...] "No." Roger coolly declares "THAT has been decided. If we're to do it, Clare Torry has already agreed."

Nick leans forward to crane his grin down the line at both Dave and Rick as he flippantly concedes "Oh, well, THAT'LL be all right, won't it, fellas?" 

Roger strives to keep a straight face as he notes the differing revelations while speaking "Since we have ALL already...played...with Clare, I imagine we could...work with her as well." [Hah! Rick did not know about Dave, who did not know about Nick.]

"HELL, no!" Rick is blushing nearly purple as he abashedly admonishes "I can't believe you would even suggest something so vile..."

"Now, see HERE..." Roger can deal with delicate sensibilities, when he must, but hypocrisy is not to be borne "...isn't it a bit insulting to Clare, your calling this suggestion 'vile' when YOU were the one who tossed the term 'multi-orgasmic' around indiscriminately while boasting about your conquests of her?" Having grown rather fond of Clare, Roger feels Rick deserves being raked with righteous recrimination. "You are in no way a model of discretion..." he cannot help but sneer, knowing formal form will cut "...RICHARD. I hardly think you dare claim any moral high ground." Recalling instances from filming, he acidly adds "You were perfectly willing to be on camera holding down Mademoiselle Nobs, but when I propose a coherently consenting human female it's all..." He mockingly simpers " 'Eww, how vile'. That dog didn't like you one bit, but Clare clearly did...WHY, I'm sure I don't know."

Dave erupts with fury. "Roger, STOP it! There is no way in HELL we will consider this." 

[Defending his sweetheart, or hoping not to be exposed? Let's see...] "And YOU..." Roger calmly expounds "Ignorantly innocent Parsons took a fall he didn't deserve for YOU screwing Clare in Martin's office. Couldn't even be bothered to tidy up? The Big Man was highly vexed, and AYE had to hear about it."

"Hey..." Nick interjects "...AYE didn't brag, and AYE didn't make a mess, so how the hell did you know about ME and Clare, anyway?"

"I didn't..." Roger grins "...but I do NOW." He watches Dave cast an incredulous glance at Nick, who offers insouciant gesture not quite a shrug before that belligerently piggy glare turns back upon him.

"You've pulled some crazy shit, Roger, but this is beyond the proverbial pale! I'm not gonna stand here and listen to this, you bloody pervert!"

Roger's temper flares, and it is with difficulty he tamps it down, thinking before he speaks. [Oh. pervert am I? Look who's talking. Hmmm...What if I were to suggest you two together on the literal record, since you're both apparently too good for Clare now that I've known her and you've grown to know each other? Interlude I observed...against my will...on the couch WAS lovely, and that would be EVER so progressive...faggots would be lined up to claim it 'representational revolution' and might buy several copies apiece. Oh, that's RIGHT, you both still stand stupid enough to think I remain in the dark. Suppose there's a chance Nick doesn't know, but not likely...you aren't subtle.] "Fine, then." He declares breezily. "If everybody's unilaterally opposed, I won't waste any more breath."

"Wait, now, I didn't say 'no'." Nick pipes up, provoking shocked outcry from Rick.

"Nick! What the FUCK is wrong with you?'

"Well..." Nick defends "He did say 'individually', y'know." He flashes sympathetic glance at Roger before stern one at both Dave and Rick in turn. "It's not like we'd all have to be...doing it...in the same room, and He's got a point. People WOULD buy it. Prob'ly A LOT of them. Nobody's EVER done ANYTHING like that before. it's genius, really." he chuckles lightly "And cost-effective, too."

"NICK!" Dave snarls "That's ENOUGH!" He turns his rage from Roger to furiously regard their steady one. "You'd better get your arse aboard the Veto Bus RIGHT FUCKING NOW because this will NOT be happening!"

Nick rolls his eyes and sighs. "Sorry, Rog, but you know by now I gotta side with whoever's pitchin' the biggest fit. Hope Clare's not too disappointed."

"I'll be sure she learns you're the only one who took HER feelings..." [and my brilliant ideas] "...into account." Roger smiles upon Nick's steadfast gaze before scoffing toward Rick and Dave. "She already knows THESE two aren't much fun."


	5. Long-Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick must get into this, whether he likes it or not...

"I feel pretty...oh so pretty...that the CITY should give me its key...a coh-MITTY...should be OR-gan-ized to honor ME."

Nick recognizes Dave's voice, but knows Sondheim is more Rick. [Fuck, are they in there cooing showtunes? Hoped I could keep completely out of this, but my stuff's in there...] "Hey!" He heralds "You decent?"

Dave quickly ascertains there's nowhere to hide, halting in mid-prance. "DON'T come in here, Nick."

[Oh, Hell...] "There's a bag inside bass drum." Nick would have turned around entirely, except for what resides within. "Just bring it out to me and I'm a ghost."

"Ummm..." emerges awkwardly "I can't do that." [No way to get out in time, even if I COULD reach the damn knot.]

Nick is not fooling around, and barges in. Expecting Dave won't be alone, it's a surprise that he is...even more so what he's wearing. "Jesus CHRIST, Dave!" unexpectedly erupts.

"YeahWELL..." Dave blusters "Getcher shit and get out if you don't like it." He cocks a hip and simpers "Maybe you DO like it? Make any joke you want, but you KNOW I look good.", assured brazen banality will turn (hopefully RUN) Nick right off.

The fact that he does actually have to enter the room steels Nick's nerve. "Just back off, okay?" He insists, skulking in, unable to help casting questing gaze. [He's dressed like THAT, but all alone in a common area? What the FUCK has hapened here today?]

Nick crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on Dave, bending to rumage within biggest kit cavity. Snagging out what he'd sought, he tucks it close and snarks "Neither of us were here at all tonight, right?"

"Nick, wait..." halts depating drummer in his tracks.

"What?" [fresh hell is THIS?]

Predicament is difficult for Dave to admit, and bravado morphs into blush as he confesses "I'm stuck. Think all my pulling only tugged it tighter. Little help?"

Nick reaches into front pocket for penknife, tossing bitty blade onto the floor between Dave's stockinged feet. "This is really more of a job for Rick, but don't say I never gave you anything. Keep it."

"PLEASE don't tell Rick." Dave begs, stooping to pick up Nick's knife. "We weren't here, remember?"

[Not bloody likely to forget. It's RICK he doesn't want told? Roger must already know. What a nuthouse.] "I promise I won't talk about this. REALLY wish I hadn't seen it. 'Bye, Dave."


End file.
